


Don't Make a Bet You Can't Win

by mssrj_335



Series: Jacket 2.0 [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A little crack-ish, Bets & Wagers, Established Relationship, Finn is a Brash Bastard, Flirting, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, Language, M/M, POV Finn (Star Wars), Rebel Ingenuity ™, Sharing Clothes, The Jacket ™, but sexier, don't test him, stealing clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: Finn has a habit of ruining clothes on missions. So naturally, he and Poe have to make a bet about it.
Relationships: Finn/Poe Dameron, Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: Jacket 2.0 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845370
Comments: 24
Kudos: 81
Collections: FinnPoe Week 2020





	Don't Make a Bet You Can't Win

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgrippaSpoleto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgrippaSpoleto/gifts), [bruderlein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruderlein/gifts).



> for agrippaspoleto and bruderlein! thanks for the inspo XD  
> dudes this was a lot of fun, hope you like it!

Another mission, another ruined set of clothes. Stars, he’s never going to hear the end of this. A troop carrier drops from the sky recklessly fast, pulling up from a crash landing with inches to spare. It kicks up dust and dirt and makes him sneeze. His eyes water as he pans around. Shit, who’s missing? When the hatch opens, Finn counts each of his people as they scramble in, then hobbles in after them.

Someone shouts from the cockpit, “You all set back there?!”

It’s Poe. And all Finn’s people are out, thank the Force. “Got ‘em all,” he yells. “Get us outta here!”

The transport jerks, knocks Finn on his ass in a seat and he yelps. Not because he fell but because the carrier’s narrow seats are ice-cold and there’s apparently a giant hole in the ass of his trousers. Shouldn’t have made that slide. Though it _was_ the best way to avoid fire. His squad titters at him, tired but still riding that adrenaline high. Someone says, “Got a breeze there, Commander?” and he shakes his head with a rueful smile.

“Guess you lost the bet, sir,” says another. Zala and Nej, a twin set of pain in his ass he’s trained up from the get-go. Too bad he didn’t ever manage to train out that sass.

He waves them off. “I won’t lose if you keep your trap shut.”

Nej snorts and the rest of his squad share some very annoying meaningful looks. “Not to state the obvious, sir, but unless you’re planning on walking to Medical backward, he’s gonna see.”

Finn sighs and rolls his eyes. Yeah, his squad knows about the bet. They just don’t know how far it goes. Maybe he can get out of it, he didn’t get blood on anything. Well, not his blood, anyway. Surely that’s got to count for something? The transport jostles, settling his teammates tired against its walls.

Somehow, he doesn’t think Poe’ll go for it.

—

Turns out, Finn’s right. He wakes up, naked, and rolls out of bed to find Poe missing. Along with every scrap of clothing in the bunk. Drawers hang open and empty, the hamper’s missing, every shred of dirty laundry that had littered the floor is missing, too.He groans and flops back on the squeaky springs, smacking his head back against the pillow a couple times. Should’ve known better. Shoulda known better! He doesn’t even know how he managed to get caught pantsless—oh wait, yes he does. The night before, Poe sweet-talked him out of his drawers with that kind of fiery look and post-mission fervor and Finn didn’t have the capacity to say no. In his defense, he’s pretty sure no one could say no with Poe’s mouth around their dick, thank you. And it caught him off guard, damn it. Poe didn’t even mention the bet, just hauled Finn’s ass straight from Med to bed as soon as they were cleared for the night.

Finn sits up again and rubs his face. He shouldn’t have made the bet, in all honesty. But Poe had teased him so much about losing two jackets, four shirts, and numerous pairs of pants that he couldn’t help himself. He isn’t exactly reckless, but he’s still used to clothing being expendable, a First Order habit that’s hard to shake.

Weeks ago, Poe had teased, “I bet you ruin something else on the next mission.”

“Poe, I’m perfectly capable of finishing a mission without a scratch. Why is this so hard for you to believe?”

“Because you’ve yet to do it, buddy. If it’s not you getting banged and bloody, your duds take the worst of it.”

“I have not! There was that mission to Pollillus—”

“And you tore a hole in your pants!”

“What about—”

“Finn. Baby. Sweetheart. It doesn’t matter what planet you pick, what mission you say,” Poe had that stupid, beautiful shit-eating grin on his face and Finn wasn’t sure at the time if he wanted to punch him or kiss him, “I’m gonna have receipts.”

Finn groaned and rubbed his forehead. “How do you always know? We don’t do _every_ mission together.”

Poe had just shrugged, bumping his hip against Finn’s as they finished cleaning their bunk. “Just gotta be in good with the Quartermaster. How do you think you got all those clothes in the first place?” He chuckled, half to himself and half at Finn. “If you ruin one more thing, I swear I’m gonna hide your kriffing clothes so you have to walk around naked.”

“Fine. If I win, _you_ have to pose for that poster Jess is always badgering you about.”

“You wouldn’t _dare—_ ”

“I _want_ a copy of it, Dameron. I’m going to get one, one way or another.”

Finn decided that was a great opportunity to drag Poe to the ‘fresher for the night. And that led to some more teasing, which led to Finn’s mouth getting away from him, then getting away with Poe after Finn stripped him just to prove a point. And now, the whole base knows about the bet. Not the particulars, just that there _is_ a bet and Poe’s determined to win. Which isn’t good, because Finn’s pretty sure he was doomed from the start. He’s bound to lose something at some point, there’s just no way to predict what’s going to happen with a mission. If he’d been thinking more with his brain—which he’s very good at—and less with his dick, he wouldn’t have made the damn bet. He’s been lucky as it is, he’s been on a streak. Five missions in a row with no clothes lost. It’s a good thing Poe doesn’t play dirty, because Finn is acutely aware of Poe’s internal struggle about it. On the one hand, Poe’s pleased he’s not coming back injured. On the other, the pilot really _really_ likes the idea of Finn walking around naked more often. So, an impasse.

Until today.

Fuck, Poe had to wake up early for this. Finn fumbles for his datapad. Maybe there’s not much on the roster for today. Maybe he can just stay in and not have to move. A quick look tells him, no, of course not. In fact, he’s already running behind. Joint meeting at 0700. Intelligence debrief—which he’s supposed to be leading—at 0830 for the next outgoing mission. Training recruits for the rest of the day. Kriff, how’s he supposed to do all this without pants? He can’t go out with his privates public, Leia will land his naked ass in the stocks faster than he can blink, bet or not. Sometimes it pays to be sleeping with Black Leader. And sometimes it just incurs the General’s wrath that much faster. Finn purses his lips, huffs out a deep, annoyed breath.

Ok, fine. He’ll play Poe’s stupid game. He’s not going to make a bet he can’t win and he’s not going to fight fair. Strategy is Finn’s game.

In about fifteen minutes, he’s walking the base, headed for the meeting just like he’s supposed to. However, there’s about a dozen sets of eyes following him that usually wouldn’t even pause. He reaches up over his head, stretches, and that gets about five more sets. He can already hear the whispers starting, someone’s running ahead of him to the debriefing room. _Perfect_. It had taken a little digging with his datapad but he’d managed to come up with something. To make it more nefarious, he’d pulled from Poe’s decorated wall. It wasn’t a collectible or anything, just a black and orange fabric banner that happened to be long enough. The ‘fresher towels were too short and he _could’ve_ used the bedsheet but that would’ve defeated the point of this little maneuver. So now he’s parading around with a starbird banner over his dick. Actually, the whole getup feels pretty good in Ajan Kloss’s sticky air. Plenty of breeze, anyway. The fabric’s slung low, secured with a sturdy knot on his hip. Poe had actually left their shoes, so Finn’s shoved his bare feet in his boots. It itches already, but all the thigh that’s exposed makes it worth it.

Without a word to anyone, he pushes into the meeting room. On the far side, he spots Poe, head bent and snickering to Jess. No doubt thinking Finn’s not going to show. She’s in on it. Most likely, she probably helped him. There’s a little ripple of commotion that starts at the door and by the time it reaches Poe, Finn’s dropped himself into a seat, propping a foot at a jaunty angle on his knee. Poe finally looks to see what the fuss is about, and when he finds Finn, his jaw drops. Finn crosses his arms, fully aware that if the debriefing room weren’t a little dark everyone would be getting an eyeful. There’s a breeze on the bottom of his ass to confirm. Poe’s eyes get wide, Jess full on snorts and starts cackling, then Poe’s mouth starts working. No sound is coming out. To say Finn’s pleased with himself would be an understatement. He gives Poe a little wave and a self-satisfied smirk. In an instant, Poe’s scrambling across the room. Finn’s not sure what exactly Poe’s planning to do but whatever it is, it’s too late. Leia strides through the door, regal as always, and the whole company comes to attention. Finn included. He pops to his feet though he keeps his eyes on Poe, who’s staring at him with a hungry look.

Now to find out if this is worth it.

Leia takes her place at the head of the room. She doesn’t notice him immediately, which is fine. Gives Finn a chance to get his cool back. If he’s going to pull this off, he can’t show any embarrassment, that much is certain. She starts her debrief, sweeping the room as usual, and when her eyes settle on him she actually grinds to a halt.

“…Finn,” she says with a raise of her chin and a dangerous look. “What in desert hell are you wearing?”

Finn clasps his hands behind his back at attention, with every pretense of professionalism he can muster. “All respect, General, my clothes are gone and your time is too important to waste on something so trivial.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Poe’s hand clench at his side once. Twice. _Ha._ Nervous.

“I would agree that my time is important, Commander. But you haven’t answered my question.”

Her gaze falls very pointedly to the starbird insignia across his hips. Stars, staring her down is somehow more intimidating than Phasma. He can do this, though. He can.

“It was what was available, General. I improvised so as not to miss the meeting.”

“Huh.” She pauses at that, lips pursed. Considering. Then, success. “You’ve got guts, kid. You’re a picture of Resistance ingenuity. At ease.”

She smiles and Finn relaxes. He doesn’t dare smile back, but he can’t help the tiniest twitch in the corner of his mouth. Poe’s nearly boiling over, foot tapping, fingers clenching.

“I would like to know how this was possible, considering you and Commander Dameron share quarters. Perhaps we should launch an inquiry into the theft—”

“That won’t be necessary!” Poe cuts in.

All eyes turn to him. Stars, Poe’s lucky to be who he is. If he wasn’t so tight with Leia, Finn’s positive her stare would’ve turned him to ash on the spot. As it is, Poe slides from his place and shucks his black leather jacket to fit it over Finn’s shoulders.

“Simple misunderstanding,” Poe says. Finn can tell he’s going for smooth but he’s not really pulling it off. “Got laundry day mixed up.”

Leia does _not_ look impressed or convinced but she waves her hand and says, “Get it sorted, commanders. This better be the last I see of it.”

Before Leia’s even finished her sentence, Poe is shoving Finn out the door, frog-marching him back to the barracks.

Finn smiles, sly and please, “We’re not going to laundry, _sir_?”

“Fuck you,” Poe hisses.

“Hey fuck _you._ This is your problem.”

“And I fully intend to make it _your_ problem as soon as we get inside.” Poe glances down, breathlessly asks, “Stars, are you wearing _anything_ under that?”

“You took all of my clothes!”

Poe groans and bites his lip. “Shit, you’re right.”

“Guess I’ve gotta build a wardrobe again, and you know what? I’m gonna start here,” Finn grins, flapping Poe’s coat. “You’re not getting this back.”

They round a corner and Poe’s nearly sprinting, shoving him into their bunk. “Fine, fine, whatever, just get _in there_.”

Finn laughs, loud and clear as he stumbles back, hands already up Poe’s shirt before the door slides shut. Guess he’s got a new jacket.

Let’s see how long it lasts.

**Author's Note:**

> so? what d'you think?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Finn Clothkiller and the Posterboy of the Resistance or how the tables have turned…](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25587244) by [AgrippaSpoleto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgrippaSpoleto/pseuds/AgrippaSpoleto)




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